Coat of Many Colours
My Coat
Design me a coat that only I can wear,
Line it with my life's experiences and lessons learnt,
With each stitch sew in my tears and fears
Then bind the hem with the times I've been burnt.
***
Once completed, it's time to fill in the gaps
With motifs that brought unimaginable joy,
Add badges of love, excitement and happiness,
Such as the birth of a much wanted baby boy.
***
Shade in the sorrow of going it alone
Place patches of bold colours to show the fights won,
When love and joy shone through heartache and pain
Bright stitches embroider the excitement and fun.
***
Tattoo the pocket with the sun rising
Eclipsing the hearts sheer magic and joy,
Although still alone and afraid of tomorrow
Add in the birth of another beautiful baby boy.
***
Don't forget to add the bright coloured rainbow
Stretching from shoulder to shoulder,
Paint in the pot of gold that was discovered
With the love experienced as my boys grew older.
***
Now comes the time to slip my coat around me
And I bask in the glorious memories and fun,
The good and the bad of my coat surrounds me
Molding me into the very essence I've become.
***
I love my coat of many colours
Knowing it’s one only I can wear,
There is no other like it
Not one you'd care to share.
***
This coat of shade and light,
Love, happiness and sorrows,
Heartbreak, loss and pain,
Of yesterday's, today's and tomorrow's!
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Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
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About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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More stories from Colleen Millsteed and writers in Poets and other communities.
Llion the Brave Version 2
Her screams diminished as Llion was dragged away from the cell. The stench in the corridor was less but there was still damp, decay, defecation, death. His feet dragged, like a raggedy puppet, the guard either side of him holding him fast. He could feel their individual fingers digging into his scant flesh, leaving their impression on his bones.
By Rachel Deeming4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
A very interesting concept used to write the story of your life. Fantastic!
Oh my. Love this. So well written.
Love this!!!💖💕